


Suicide Season

by krueger84



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi, song-fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krueger84/pseuds/krueger84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song-fic self challenge. Doing a one shot for every track off of BMTH's sophomore effort, Suicide Season. Fits the fic challenge well. May pave the way for future song fic challenges I may do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Comedown

A/N: Takes place in season 6. Sometime after the first time to be exact ;)

Buffy was pinned up against a tree, unable to move. The bone blade from the Miquot demon firmly held her sleeves in place as Kulak's orphaned sister Rutek rounded on Buffy, her murderous red eyes glaring down at the slayer.

Tonight was her night. She was claiming vengeance. For her brother. For her clan. For herself.

She was less than 2 paces away from the panicked slayer when a figure shrouded in leather crash tackled the demon. Rutek pushed Spike off of her and shot fresh bone missiles towards him. Spike deflected the bone darts with a makeshift gauntlet, crouching to pick one up that had dropped neatly in front of him. He twirled on the spot and hurled it at Rutek's neck, badly puncturing her cardoid artery. Blood was spraying everywhere as Spike mercifully leapt towards her and snapped her neck.

He walked away, spitting back at her before saying, "It's a good thing I don't drink demon, that could've been a lot slower, pet." His high cheekbones drew in as she smirked at this thought, imagining a human in place of the Miquot.

Buffy glared at Spike as he removed the bone fragments from the elm trunk.

"You alright?" he checked, grabbing the last one and setting her on her feet.

"I'm fine, I guess I just had my mind on the dweevils and she caught me off guard. It was a she, right?" Buffy replied, frowning doubtfully.

"The breasts made me think so, she definitely had the voice of a John though." Spike replied. "I haven't come across many Cumqauts bef-"

"Miquots, Spike. I've only gone up against one, but you'd remember the first one of those." She smiled sardonically to herself.

"Bollocks to that, pet." Spike said offhandedly, edging closer to Buffy's side as they walked through one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries.

"What are you doing, Spike?" Buffy asked perceptively.

"What? You're not keen then? I just figured with all that pent up frustration, and having to rely on me to save your scrawny hide, you might be a bit fretted. You know how much I like to play." He smirked, taking a wistful swipe at her golden hair. Buffy turned to him and glowered.

"Look, that was once, and you know why. I was weak, and you were there." Buffy murmured coldly to his pale face.

"I'm here right now slayer, and quite frankly I'm in the right mood for either." Spike stated.

"Either?"

"Yeah. Either. Either wiping the floor with you, or making it quake with you."

With that, Spike swung a sloppy backhand at her cheek, which Buffy caught easily and twisted harshly, forcing him to his knees. Her eyes raced over the monster before her. He was both her savior and nemesis tonight. She feasted on him, his vulnerability rolling off of him in waves.

"How about both?" She mouthed seductively.

She let his wrist go so he could straighten himself, then grabbed both and pinned him against the headstone behind him. She took his neck in her mouth and sucked roughly, drawing the blood to the surface. He had to resist every urge to do the same, knowing that it was much more dangerous for him to be rough, and not necessarily to her. They fought for position, Buffy finally straddling him and pinning his wrists to the soil they lost themselves to.

Once they were done, Buffy put her screens up and gave him a curt, if not abusive, farewell.

"So what, you're gonna go home and pretend this didn't just happen then. Again!" Spiked asked, frustration showing in his tone.

She turned around, considering his naked form on the cold, soft soil. "I have to pretend."

She gave him one last look. "Until I need it again, at least."


	2. Chelsea Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've got a secret

Chelsea Smile:

I've got a secret,

It's on the tip of my tongue,

It's on the back of my lungs and,

I'm gonna keep it!

I know something you don't know!

Spike was battered, bruised and damn near broken, but he felt alive for the first time in centuries, and he wasn't about to pussy out of a fight. The quintet of undead fiends stalked him to a nearby carnival; the type that was open every weekend on the beach. The perfect place for a young fledgling couple to have their first kiss. It was also the perfect place to be driven to by a young nest of vampires that awoke earlier, very cranky about the fact that Spike's earlier endeavours created quite the racket on their turf.

Spike careened painfully into the now-closed park, tripping and scrambling around a game booth, his back against the wall. He searched his jacket frantically for a stake, but finding nothing of use, drove his elbow into the booth he leant against and picked up one of the oak fragments. He could hear them now, chasing him. They were different from him, wild animals. The gift that Spike had earnt made him feel like a different class of vampire. An elite. A champion. Still, he had more work ahead of him if he wanted to feel like he truly deserved that title; starting with the group of newborns pursuing him through the carnival alleys.

Once he'd waited long enough, he sprang to his feet, a cocky smile broadening his features. The first swing thrown at him was pitiful and he grabbed this vamp by the wrist, using him as leverage to launch a kick to his side, finding its mark in the ribs of a shorter female vamp. He swung back around before hearing her land, throwing haymakers at the first vamp, before revealing his makeshift stake and plunging it deep into his heart.

He twirled his jacket around as the staked vamp disintegrated, flinging the dust into another vampire's eyes. Spike took advantage of the target's disorientation, taking him down with a roundhouse kick to the neck. Before the vamp could return to his feet, his eyes met Spike's. He saw hatred burning in what appeared to be Spike's….no. This warrior was far too strong to be anything but a fellow vampire. His curiosity went unrewarded however, his death swift and dusty.

Two more vamps fell with ease, Spike gaining momentum and confidence despite his weakened condition. At last the female vampire he had first sent flying into a near sideshow stand had returned, apparently waiting for him to tire, whilst taking out the rest of her crew.

He turned towards her, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"Bitch is gonna pay. Get what she deserves." He muttered aloud.

"Make me pay." The female vamp replied, her features morphing into a misshapen sadistic smile.

She ran at Spike and dodged his early parries, delivering a swift knee with his suplex. Spike's wind was knocked out of him, and he fell to his knees. Before he could recover, she dealt him a spinning kick to the temple. Spike fell hard against the dusty cement. The female vampire stood over him, taking in the fallen champion.

"So, Darling, what do I deserve?" She asked innocently. "Cause if it's giving a lame vampire a beating, I have both been there and done that."

His face was pressed hard against the pavement, yet his words came out clearly and succinctly. "You talk like her. You think you're better than me. Deep down, you know you're not though." With this, he rose to his feet. His face was not frenzied and bloodthirsty like it had been moments earlier. He was a picture of quiet wonder. He seemed to look into this vampires face, and then past it, around and through it all at once. This amused him and made him chuckle quietly to himself. He considered her again shortly before springing and taking her by the hair in one hand, his other arm locked over her throat.

"You think you're better than me," he growled in a staccato way to the beat of her attempts of escape from his chokehold. "But you're not pet. You stink of blood and death, and in a second I'll smell of stinking mothballs. You won't know why, you'll never know."

With that he twisted her neck, snapping it in two and ripping her head from her body, looking into her eyes as they turned to dust in his hands.

He took a second to rest and survey the scene, before walking away at a leisurely pace, whistling an old ditty his mum had often sung to him.

A/N – Awesome song. So far this songfic project had featured the original big bad twice. Is it a shape of things to come? Keep reading and find out. And also review please.


	3. It Was Written In Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 7

Chloe sat in her room, crying. Except it wasn't even her room, she barely had any space, let alone a room. No, this was a bathroom. She couldn't even have that to herself.

Earlier that day, she'd been called a maggot. The physical nature of her training was too much, she wasn't a slayer, or a warrior, she couldn't even be a cadet for the army. She searched inside for her true power. What makes me a potential? Would she die for her cause? Did she have the strength of will? Was there someone she cared enough for her to fight for, to sacrifice herself for?

All of these questions, were unanswerable, but they lingered, they lingered on her mind and sat at the tip of her tongue, until she verbalised them.

"I am a maggot."

"No, you're not. You're definitely not."

She turned to see Annabelle standing before her. But she couldn't believe her eyes. Annabelle was dead! They buried her!

"You – you're not real!" Chloe declared, backing away from her dead friend.

"Oh, I really am, Chloe. But I can understand why you'd say that. I can't touch you, I can't show you…"

"Show me what?" Chloe said defiantly. She was half shouting at this point, hoping someone would come to her aid when they heard her.

"Shhh, silly. They'll hear us. And I just wanna talk. No harm in that, right? It's not like I'm torturing you, making you do pushups, making you bleed and bruise yourself. And for what? So you can say you helped? Can you really help them?"

"Shut up."

"Sorry, that was rude."

"You're pathetic. Coming here and talking to me, tr4ying to convince me to do what exactly? Change sides?"

"No sweetie, not change sides. Just to give up altogether."

"Never gonna happen."

"But I know you will. I know sooooo much Chloe. You wouldn't begin to see how much of you I know."

Chloe stopped for a second. Annabelle sat down and motioned for Chloe to follow. Annabelle told her everything. She told her about her family. About her past lives. About the line of the slayer. About the generations that followed. They talked for a long time. Chloe sat in awe, learning, trying to imagine her place in the line of slayers, but it just wasn't coming to her.

"That's because you don't live, sweetie. I can't see the future, but I can show you why you're not in it."

"What's with all this showing me business. You can tell me my whole life but you can't even touch me, how can you show me anything?"

"Look outside."

Chloe looked at Annabelle quizzically.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "The window."

Chloe nodded sheepishly and rose to her feet. As she turned her jaw dropped and she shook where she stood. Wordless sounds escaped her throat and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

She turned back to Annabelle hesitantly. "How?" She asked.

"How indeed. Imagine a giant soldier made of wood 1000 feet tall. That little mob out there resembles his little toe." Annabelle replied, smirking.

Chloe shook harder and harder, she turned back to the window and started to blubber like a baby. Hundreds of Turok-Han stood atop a hill in the distance. They formed a pyramid that spanned the slope of thedescent.

"Now, Chloe, look in the top drawer. I'm sure you'll find what you need. This is how it ends. This is your power. You get to end it here, rather than out there, with all of them." Annabelle spat, pointing out the window at the legions of ubervamps.

Chloe opened the drawer and eyed some womens razors. She started to dismantle one but cut herself. She cried harder, realising that she couldn't even stomach the sight of her blood. It trickled down onto the basin, she made a half-hearted attempt at writing a message on the bench. It was simple enough. "I'm sorry" but it was barely legible. She smudged it out with her hand and approached the linen closet. She took out a sheet and secured it to a fixture in the bathroom. Annabelle watched and advised her on ways to strengthen the knot.

She didn't want it to break, after all.

A/N: I want to finish off these one shots, even though I struggled to come up with ideas for them a while ago. Expect some more SPuffy to come, as well as wasted potentials.


End file.
